Dining Out
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Taqueria La Estacion is located on Killingsworth in Northeast Portland, just south of where the street joins with Lombard to create the confluence that is the Gartner Meat Market Frontage Road Express Throughway.
It hilariously occupies what appears to formerly be a British-themed snackbar/pub/lair.
As you can see, Estacion has some unique Mexican specialties other than tacos that immediately distinguishes it from other taquerias. But this is a post in the Taco Survey, so those items will have wait for another post.
The taco triumvarite. I subbed chicken for carnitas, as the menu did not offer the latter. On this day I added an extra pastor. That tortillas here are commercial.
The pastor. Very good.
The asada. I bit gristly and lesser than as-crisp-as-I-like in pieces.
The chicken. The weakest of the bunch, but chicken tacos are usually the Stephen Baldwin of any taqueria family.
A fully dressed taco.
The garnish bar…
…which features bright and vibrant red and green sauces…
and includes a spicy, orangish habanero sauce (fiery) and a chunky table sauce (on the right). This particular salsa was quite unique, in that it uncannily tasted almost exactly like Herdez’s canned Salsa Casera. I’m not saying it was the brand stuff — the texture was different as this was nice and fresh — but the taste similarity was remarkable.
If you ever find your way on the back road to the airport, or if you are a pervert and like to frequent the underage strip club next door, stopping by Estacion for food is a perfectly fine decision. I’ve heard good things about other items on their menu which I have yet to sample. Interestly enough, there’s a taco truck in the parking lot (a hundred yards away) that shares the same name as the taqueria (“La Estacion Express #2”) yet holds different hours (it was closed when I visited). I suppose it’s a niche adjunct to the restaurant proper. If not, it stands as the most brazen example of copyright infringment in history of American taquerias.
La Estacion Express
Just south of NE Lombard/NE Portland Highway. The entrance is on NE Killingsworth, just west of NE Cully. There’s no listing for phone, address, etc., so you’ll just have to check it out for yourself, you lazy fucker.
I frequently troll and make an ass out of myself at Portlandfood.org, but other than that it really is a boon for the Portland food community. ExtraMSG has paid for the hosting and has performed the legwork to make it the definitive Portland food resource for the last 4+ years.
From a recent post:
I am currently moving the site to new servers. During the next week, the site may be down intermittently or even slower than it has been lately as I back up numerous domains that I have hosted on the server. I will try to move Portlandfood.org sooner than most other domains, but it’s one of the most difficult sites to move and I want to make sure it is working properly before I finish the migration. Bear with me. Things will get better.
Some of you have offered to send me money or whatever to help. No need. If you want to help me out or give me some sort of remuneration, buy dinner at Kenny & Zuke’s. Introduce a new friend. Have your office cater. That will do much more for me than sending $20, $50, or $100 to me personally and you’ll get a full belly in return. Thank you, though.
-Nick aka Extramsg aka Zuke
Speaking as someone who has offered help, I therefore command you to visit Kenny & Zuke’s, where many delicious foodstuffs (amongst which includes the finest smoked pastrami this side of the Willamette River…hell, the Snake River) and a varied array of refreshing beverages are available for purchase, right in the heart of beautiful downtown Portland, just seconds away from our fine burg’s “meatpacking” district, located near ground zero of the incredibly stylish and well-coifed Ace Hotel.
Often lost in the excitment that is the Whisky Soda Lounge,
…it’s easy to overlook the shack that started it all is still consistently churning out earnest and tasty thai grub. The patio tables are now reserved for the restaurant proper, so this is a grab and go affair.
This is the menu. All of it.
Pok Pok always features a daily special with MAMA brand instant noodles, and it’s served with meat from their delicious game hens. I love them for this “proletariat” handshake.
Papaya pok pok ($8.00).
1/2 a roast game hen ($6.50). Two dipping sauces, including a sweet and sour chili sauce and a darker, tamarind flavored soy.
pok pok
address: 3226 se division, pdx
telephone: 503 232 1387
pokpokpdx.com
Toro Bravo is located on NE Russell, just west of MLK.
Toasted chick peas grace your table as soon as you’re seated.
Manchego and Paprika Fritters with spicy salsa roja.
Seared Scallops with romesco.
Griddled Bacon Wrapped Dates with warm honey.
Spicy Octopus and Prawn Stew.
House Smoked Coppa Steak with olive oil poached potatoes chopped olives and salbitxada.
Lamb Braised with Apricots & Coriander with homemade egg noodles.
There’s a reason why Toro Bravo is the best tapas restaurant in Portland, if not one of our fine city’s finest eateries.
Toro Bravo
120 NE Russell Street
Portland, OR 97212
503.281.4464
www.torobravopdx.com
Hae Rim is a Korean restaurant in Beaverton, just west of the 217.
The BiBimBob section of the menu.
The best part of a Korean meal is all the side dishes you get. It must really suck to be a dishwasher at a Korean restaurant.
The standard BiBimBob.
The banchan parade.
The BiBimBob at Hae Rim isn’t a transcendental experience, but it’s solid comfort food. $8.95.
The meal is capped off with this cold, sweet barley tea, which may sound odd.
But not as odd as this. Perhaps it’s because of Tony Brinkley, Moonies, and the Washington Times, but I find this Korean religious propoganda extremely creepy.
Hae Rim
11729 SW Beaverton-Hillsdale Hwy,
Beaverton, OR
Phone: (503) 671-9725
I was in the Bay Area recently, and hit Ramen Hula.
Before leaving North Beach that morning, I did a search for the best ramen in South Bay. Your usual suspects came up, mostly in San Jose and San Mateo, with a couple in Mountain View. However, one blogger whose name I don’t remember and whose blog address I forget said Hula in San Jose was the best, and that was good enough for me. Later when we were at the establishment, a framed article by Melanie Wong in the San Jose Mercury proclaimed Hula #1 in the in the Top 10 ramen restaurants in the South Bay Area, so my instincts in this instance proved correct.
An hour later and a few failed opportunities for carbon offsets later, we were in San Jose, right off the I-280 freeway.
Across the street was a fitting visage for our times.
Hula opens for lunch at 11:30 AM sharp. At 11:15, there was already a line.
The Indian market next door advertised what appeared to be the Bollywood version of One Crazy Summer.
The menu features pre-configured specialties.
And also an a la carte itemization for a pimp-it-yourself ramen experience and a most excellent drink menu.
We started with this delightful okara salad. The texture was like a thick farmer’s cheese. Very refreshing.
Shio ramen. A light broth, thin noodles. Pretty straightforward, but decent (if a bit perfunctory).
The special house Ramen Hula. Thick noodles, bold, strong, assertive broth that was a veritable salt bomb. The pork was meaty, yet tender.
The broth literally had chunks of pork fat floating in it. So unctuous.
The noodles were thicker than most ramen I’ve had, and I loved them. This was a good damn bowl of soup.
In the back of the house, I saw them breaking out the crack torch for each bowl of HALU ramen that left the kitchen. My theory is that they put chunks of pork fat on top of freshly ladled bowls of ramen and melted the fat into the soup.
After I snapped the photo, this proprietoress gave me a slightly askew look. At the time I wondered perhaps she thought I was stealing trade secrets, but she probably was thinking I was a pervert for scoping her rack.
If you’re in San Jose by a freeway, I suggest you get some ramen.
Ramen Hula
375 South Saratoga Ave
San Jose, 95129
408.246.3933
Website
Phở Binh Minh (no relation to Binh Minh nee Maxim Sandwiches) is located just north of dowtown Tigard, half a mile south of the 217/99w intersection.
It is a pretty standard-issue, family-run Vietnamese restaurant. Which explains why I enjoy eating here.
Phở Binh Minh opened in late spring of 2007, and has a new-ish, recently baked feel. There’s a surreptitious hallway to the left as you enter that leads to a video crack room that seems to exist within a vacuum in its own strange, alternate existence, completely divorced from the prosaic reality in the main dining room.
Ah, Oregon. You can feed a daily addiction, diverted from and sheltered by society, but pumping your own gas is verboten.
The Goi Cuon (with shrimp and poached pork loin) is fresh and features a nice amount of fresh herbs.
Here’s a cross-section view.
The Goi Cuon Chay (vegetarian) were very nice - extremely large. The fried tofu was excellent, and it was packed with Thai basil. The fillings were bursting from the seams - one of of the rolls was nearly falling apart. But I’ll take that any day over a small petite salad roll.
The garnish platter isn’t the most ample, but features just enough for a large bowl. Big ups for the sawleaf herb (ngo gai).
The Phở Tai Chin (with rare beef and braised brisket).
Note: if you’re ordering phở tai (rare beef), ask for your “steak on the side”—if you like it that way—and you’re sure to get it. The waiters are sons of the family,and speak English fluently. And you get a fair amount of lean, thin slices of beef round draped on a side plate with your soup.
Brisket.
The phở here is an honest, hearty bowl of soup. It’s not the most nuanced of broths, but it’s a flavorful, “clean” broth and it’s evident the cooks pays careful attention to the stock. It is very reminiscent of the stocks I grew up eating from the various kitchens of my Mom, aunt, and their various friends. The fresh rice noodles are consistently toothsome.
Their papaya salad, quite frankly, rocked my world. For $4.95 it was chock full of fresh shrimp (and pork - there was a good amount of protein), and the herbs were aplenty - rau ram and basil. The Viet version of papaya salad is less tangy than Thai version, with more of a focus on sweetness (some may call it cloying), but ample slices of fresh jalapeno played well against that. Really, really good.
I’ve also sampled a few other items at Phở Binh Minh. The Bun Tom Thit Nuong was large, ample. The grilled pork in this dish was seasoned nicely will lemongrass, and the skewer of 3 grilled shrimp were slightly overcooked, but otherwise good. Their nuoc cham I think is bland, a bit on the sweet side (I like my cham fiery and tangy). A decent version, albeit subdued—the garnish (just cukes, pickles, lettuce, sprouts) could have used fresh mints and basil.
Their cia gio is a pretty good rendition, as well. This place serves solid, fresh food with proteins that never have “off” tastes (something I can’t say about certain other Vietnamese places in town). On the strengths of their standard-issue Vietnamese dishes, Phở Binh Minh is in a league with some of the better Viet restaurants in Portland.
Phở Binh Minh
11945 SW Pacific Hwy Ste 212
Tigard, OR 97223
(503) 968-0121
Map
Taqueria Pico de Gallo sits squarely in the epicenter of South Tucson, on South 6th Avenue, a mile south of 22nd Avenue. South Tucson is an anomoly; it’s an enclave that covers roughly a square mile, and it’s surrounded entirely by the city of Tucson proper. South Tucson has its own municipal services and zoning regulations, and its own mayor and city council. Why they would want to do this is anybody’s guess. All I can say is that — despite having a crime rate higher than Camden, New Jersey (aka America’s most dangerous city and all-around fun zone) — the citizens of South Tucson obviously choose to live here because of the proximity to some good-ass tacos1.
Contrary to what some normally consider to be “pico de gallo”, namely, a salsa fresca made with chopped fresh tomatoes, the namesake in this instance refers to the deliciously fresh fruit cups served up by the taqueria (and sprinkled with chili salt).
They also serve these fruity, frozen raspados, which are coincidentally crafted…
…right next door.
Enough with food that is not tacos.
The breakfast menu.
The menu board.
The full menu luckily is available in the early AM (and from which I order breakfast when I’m in town).
This is the only table sauce they have on hand, a thick, incendiary concoction made from chile de arbol.
The taco plates are garnished with excellent pickled onions. The tortillas at Pico De Gallo are wonderful, thick, substantial discs of stoney masa goodness, freshly prepared on the premises. They are unlike any other Mexican restaurant in the Tucson area (which for the most part tilts towards flour as does Sonoran cuisine).
The tortillas here work together with a crispy, fried pillows of mild flesh to form one of the best fish tacos I’ve had, especially considering the nearest port is Puerto Penasco some 4 hours away in Mexico. The white sauce — normally a conceit I’ll even leave off my fish taco — here is a perfect foil for the fiery table salsa.
A decent asada.
Birria.
Barbacoa. These shredded meat tacos are a bit juicy/saucy, and tend to saturate the tortillas to the point where they have difficulty standing up. (This does not apply to the cabeza, which is shredded beef cheek and holds up well). However, the shredded meats are well prepared and are worth ordering — I would perhaps eat these first.
Here’s the proof that I paid for my meal.
Taqueria Pico de Gallo
2618 South 6th Avenue (Google Map)
85713 (
520)623-8775
Links
Footnotes
1 I lived just a mile-and-a-half north of South Tucson for a few years. I walked and biked all over the place, even late at night. It’s not that bad. I did get three bikes stolen.
In fact, I stayed just over a mile north of this place during my time in Tucson, at my wife’s godmother’s guest house.
The most dangerous thing I encountered was this cactus. This fucking evil plant ruined many an afternoon growing up, as while trying to catch an errant outlet pass you might end up in a patch, and hundreds of these miniscule, orange hair-like spines would attach to your lower calf with ferocity. Only a long soak in an oatmeal bath would temper the pain and suffering.
Lanvin French Bakery is located just behind the Phở Oregon on NE 82nd. As you access the back entrance to Phở Oregon from the parking lot, Lanvin occupies just a diminutive storefront but it’s impossible to miss.
First and foremost, Lanvin is a Vietnamese bakery. If you seen 6 packs of sandwich baguettes at any Asian store in the Portland metro area, look closely and you might find the Lanvin stamp on the package. In fact, I had a chicken parm sandwich from Pizza Fino once and the bread bore a strong resemblence to a Lanvin roll.
As with many things Vietnamese, Lanvin delves deep into Francophilia.
Here are some of the baked goods you’ll find:
In addition to savory items like banh bao (large, doughy steam cakes filled with a meat cake made from ground pork, dried mushrooms, Chinese sausage and hard-boiled egg which served as many a breakfast growing up), you’ll find…
Bánh mì. A small, focused selection.
The grilled pork. Nice amount of fat, and a decent meat ratio. The sandwich is dressed nicely. Lanvin gets major points for including a long cucumber slice and generous amounts of Maggi in this sandwich.
The bbq pork. This sandwich gets a spread of pate.
Unfortunately, I think the sandwich is dressed with too much mayo.
Lanvin makes a decent sandwich. I wouldn’t hesistate to grab a grilled pork when I’m in the area. However, I feel their bread is a bit too light and the texture a bit too airy, even when toasted nicely (which they do here), so it would be hard to choose Lanvin over Binh Minh, which is a couple miles away.
Lanvin French Bakery
8211 Ne Brazee St
Portland, OR 97220
(503) 252-0155
More learnin’
I went to high school and college in Tucson, Arizona, and my mom and my wife’s parents still reside in the desert, so I make it back often.
When I had an office on Congress street in the early aughts, we were a very short walk from Little Cafe Poca Cosa, and thus spent many a morning there eating my favorite dish, pork chile colorado. It was a great desayuno. And sometimes lunch too.
Little Cafe Poca Cosa is not to be confused with Cafe Poca Cosa the elder, which is a decidely much more upscale affair at a different downtown location.
Some real estate snafu has forced the little cafe to move from its former hole-in-the-wall locale to this spot on Stone Avenue adjacent to the Tucson public library.
Speaking of the Tucson public library…what the hell is this?
The interior is a bit sparse, but larger (by a factor of two) than the previous place.
The folks at Little Poca Cosa (it is owned and operated by a family with deep roots in Southern Arizona) are very socially conscious. They continually raise money for good causes, and invite their guests to help out. Dropping a buck after a meal into the till really does help you karmically correct yourself before you wreck yourself.
The breakfast menu.
The lunch menu.
As soon as you’re seated, you’re greeted by chips and salsa.
My old mainstay, the pork chili colorado. Like visiting with an old girlfriend, only without the restraining orders.
All lunch plates are served with a simple but satisfying rice, and a colorful salad.
The dressing for the salad — a nice, herby vinagrette — sits on the table, allowing you to douse to your heart’s content.
Plates are served with your own personal tortilla warmer…
…with your own personal stash of tortillas and…
…these wonderfully cooked pinto beans on the side.
So how was it? Good, just as I remember, though a bit more mild than I recall. My M.O. is to douse and eat the salad, then drop a few pieces of pork into the tortillas and garnish with salsa and eat those as impromptu tacos.
Finally, the last step is to eat the rice, which — when combined with the leftover salad dressing mixed with red chili sauce — becomes sublime.
Just outside the door you’ll find this steampunk public art installation. I like touching it.
Best Baguette is the splashy entrant into the PDX bánh mì universe, the hair-sprayed cousin with manicured nails, knock-off couture, and shiny new car. Modeled after some of the trendy sandwich emporiums indigenous to Southern California (i.e. Lee’s Sandwiches), Best Baguette instantly sets itself apart from mom-n-pop bánh mì shops with its conspicious ambition. For one thing, it has a drive-thru. A drive-thru!
They got signage and everything, and somebody is shelling out serious coin at the local reprographics shop, as these promotional banners attest. The main promo banner tells me if I order like 13 sandwiches I will score an iced coffee.
Their menu wall is in color. They feature many flavors of boba. I have no interest in boba, as I am not a communist.
Notice how the photo for the Chicken Salad sandwich is absent. Maybe it was sick on yearbook photo day.
Here’s some thumbnails of the menu. In addition to a full range of Vietnamese specialties, including a sardine option, many Americanized/Euro versions are offered. Again, I know not what these sandwiches are like, as, alas, I am not a fascist. Though I am strangely intrigued by the “savory shrimp in a new form of sandwich”. Who wouldn’t be?
One thing that bugs me about Best Baguette is that they pack their garnishes in a seperate, plastic bag. For one thing, it’s a needless waste. Secondly, it affects the material composition of the sandwich. Ask them to pack that shit in there.
How’s the sandwich? Very good. It is one of the longer Vietnamese sandwiches you’ll find, though the baguette itself is much more narrow than others. Their bread has improved since their opening days.
You’ll also find frozen iced treats of some sort. I haven’t ordered any, probably for the same reason I wouldn’t order a sardine sandwich at Mio Gelato.
Best Baguette is also a bakery, selling various breads…
…including these monstrous yeast amalgamations that look like they’re swiped from the set of Pan’s Labrynth.
The baguettes themselves are great when you want to indulge in a childhood treat, in this case the french bread pizza, which got me through many a lonely night during puberty.
Summary: Best Baguette makes a decent sandwich. With Binh Minh just a quarter-mile away, it’s hard to opt over that if you’re talking pure quality, but Best Baguette has a wider selection, it has a drive-through, and its glossy, Westernized modernity sometimes is a nice change of pace. Also, Best Baguette keeps good hours, serving sandwiches into the evening.
Best Baguette
8308 SE Powell Blvd
Portland, OR 97266
(503) 788-3098
Google map
Just a half mile south from “main street downtown” Tigard lies Sanchez Taqueria. This unassuming Mexican restaurant that speckles the 99W corridor might serve the best goddamn tacos in the Portland metropolitan area.
Sanchez Taqueria is packed on the weekends, with a lively crowd that squeezes into the small dining area. Tables on occasion will be shared with strangers, making this possibly a “communal” dining experience.
Lucky enough for me eating tacos is a mostly a drag race affair.
The menu board at Sanchez Taqueria. (Click here to view the menu (PDF, 667 KB)
The taco triumvarite. You’ll notice things are a bit different here. The tacos themselves are staggered upon themselves, and — at first glance — you can’t even see the fillings.
First off, let’s talk about the tortillas. They are made on the premises. They are amazing. Fluffy, flatbread-like pillows of white corn goodness. I had to flag down a runner to confirm that they were indeed corn — they seemed too impossibly doughy (for lack of a better word) to be masa. They are almost pita-ish. In all my taco eating travails, these tortillas rank at the very top of the deliciousness scale.
The green and red sauce. The green is amazing — immediately salty and piquant, with a noticeable afterburn. On the whole the green table sauce actually packs more punch than the red, which itself is delicious and imparts a lovely smokiness due (I think) to chipolte and roasted dried (guajillo?) chilies.
The tables also feature this fiery chili paste, with an oil base. This is for the menudo/posole/sopa, which is quite popular on weekends. I’m afraid to put this on my tacos, as my cranium is already sieving sweat whenever I leave this place.
Carnitas. Not the absolute best carnitas I’ve had, but definitely serviceable if not delicious in its own right.
Pastor. This is ethereal. A meat triumph. Crispy, succinct nuggets of seasoned pork. A literal taco supernova.
Fully dressed asada taco. The carne, like everything else, is top notch. Seasoned to the hilt.
Since in past taco surveys I’ve been forced to include pescado, to be fair here’s Sanchez’s fish taco (which weighs in at $2.25). As you can see, it’s hardly baja in style. It’s a flat grilled/fried, non-battered tilapia filet topped simply with a chiffonade of white cabbage (which also dressed the carnitas) and cilantro. It, too, makes an amazing taco at the hands of the taqueros at Sanchez Taqueria.
The tortillas here are large and generous, even so that the ample meat fillings can be enveloped and eaten bite-by-bite like pillowy wraps of crispy, deliciously filled meaty crepes. Each bite can be accentuated with generous and alternating squirts of red and green flavor injections. Though tacos approach $2 apiece, the value can’t be underestimated. These are easily 2x other taqueris/trucks, with the added bonus being some of the most superlative tortillas your teeth will ever bite into.
I’ve fallen completely for Sanchez Taqueria. It easily is one of Portland’s best taquerias, if not Mexican restaurants. Worth to note: they have huaraches and chavindecas (NOTE THIS LINKS TO A PDF OF THE MENU).
Sanchez Taqueria
13050 SW Pacific Hwy
Tigard, OR 97223
Phone: (503) 684-2838
This past summer I spent some time in Clackamas, just southeast of Portland, as my wife was recovering for a couple weeks from surgery at the far southeast (Sunnyside) Kaiser Permanente.
On SE 82nd there’s a nice Vietnamese restaurant called Pho Huy. It’s just a few doors down from Penzey’s spices.
The interior is a bit more “polished” than most divey Vietnamese restaurants in town (Pho Van notwithstanding).
The garnish platter that accompanies an order of pho tai chin is pretty sparse. Just a sprig of basil, no ngo gai (aka culuntro). As with many places, the jalapenos are mild and impart very little in terms of accentuation. At least the lime wedge was fairly large.
The soup. The top round is sliced thin and is served farely rare, so Pho Huy gets bonus points here.
The brisket here was very tender and flavorful. Overall, the pho is decent. I would consider it middle-of-the road in terms of Pho options in the Portland area. Everything is done well enough, it’s just not blowing my mind. The broth is a bit overstated rather than balanced, with too much of an emphasis on cinnamon/star anise. But I would certainly down a bowl if I was visiting Penzeys to get my spice on. At $7.50/bowl, the soup here occuppies the upper-end of Portland pho pricing.
On another occasion I ordered goi cuon to start with (with nuoc mam aka cham instead of the hoisin/peanut, as is the preferred way of those who aren’t communists), and had the bun thit tom (grilled shrimp and pork).
The goi cuon was fresh and decent. For $4.50, they are quite small and I would consider them a ripoff, when compared to other places in town. Also, there was no mint (or herbs for that matter — just lettuce), however, there was caramelized shallots rolled in between the shrimp and pork, which added a nice, unexpected flavor. The meats were fresh, not off tasting, so major points for that.
The rice noodle dish was good, I must admit. I enjoyed my bun thit here more than I’ve enjoyed it at Banh Cuon Tanh Dinh, which the conventional wisdom commonly decrees one of the best Viet places in town.
The dish featured three medium, grilled shrimp on a skewer. The shrimp were mildly flavored, but fresh. The pork (loin) featured boneless broad slices that had been marinated, grilled and then sliced. This seems to be the style many places employ (I prefer the style where paper thin slices of fatty pork are threaded unto a skewer, grilled, and then de-skewered). The marinade is rather mild in approach, probably fish sauce, sugar, and a smattering of lemongrass.
The noodles were nice and room temperature, and the vegetable garnishes are very fresh. Again, no mint (though there was cilantro). I can’t see how any Vietnamese restaurant in Portland would not use mint when it proliferates at every Southeast Asian market, where you can pick up spearmint, perilla, etc., for sometimes under a buck a bunch. Eating Vietnamese bun dishes, goi cuon, and bun rieu without mint is like having sex missionary style while still wearing your shirt and socks. In fact, it’s worse. It’s more like a dry hump.
That said, I fairly enjoyed the bun…the nuoc mam “cham” was somewhat mild, but I’m a freak, and I was able to punch it up with the chili and fish sauces on the table. Again, at $7.95 it’s a modest portion, so it’s not the best value in terms of Vietnamese food in the Portland area.
The owner here has a reputation I guess for being “pushy”. I could see how some people could get the impression, but I think she’s just being a bit overly helpful, which can be overbearing (since I look somewhat indeterminately ethnic and ordered using my best Viet Kieu patois I was spared). Since a majority of dishes coming out of the kitchen were bun, she was doing her best to guide Mr. and Mrs. Whitey Q. Caucasian in terms of dressing the noodles appropriately with the nuoc mam “cham”, playing the role of the patronizingly altruistic Asian hostess. She would describe the sauce as a “spicy chili vinagrette”, without mentioning the presence of fish sauce that serves as the base, which is something I’ve been guilty of in the past, including in the fifth grade when I brought my mom’s cha gio to our classroom potluck.
Pho Huy
11342 SE 82nd Ave
Happy Valley, OR 97086
(503) 353-6646
“Ciuppin” @Basta’s.
The original version of ciopino made on the Ligurian coast. Fresh clams, mussels, calamari, shrimp and other seasonal fresh fish sauteed with garlic, onion, parsley white wine served over garlic crostini. 17
Was good. I like Basta’s. They are often overlooked as Portland falls all over itself to out-sustain each other, but do a good job.
The head of that langoustine was tasty. Though sucking the head of a large shellfish, loudly, in a public place, is sort of weird thing to do.
Basta’s Trattoria
410 NW 21st Ave
Portland, OR 97209
(503) 274-1572
At $1.50 for a carnitas, and for asada and pastor tacos clocking in at nearly 2 bucks ($1.95), the tacos at La Bonita occupy the upper-end of the taco price scale. However, for what you’re getting, it’s a pretty fair deal.
The taco triumvarite.
Asada. The meat was simultaneously tender and crispy. Nice, ample chunks of carne splendor.
Pastor. Expertly scented pork nuggets seasoned with achiote. Again, tender and bountiful. Excellent.
Carnitas. Perfect, meaty chunks of fall-apart tender pork, slightly greasy, as it should be. A quintessential carnivorous flavor.
A fully dress asada taco. The green table sauce is tangy, with a lovely saltiness. The red sauce has changed since my last visit. It used to be a fiery, intense red sauce made predominately from chilies. The recent version has a tomato component, and is much more subdued. Not as intense as I’d prefer, but delicious nonetheless. I would eat it with chips.
The toning down of the heat in the primary table sauce may be a direct nod to the growing gentrification of the Alberta/Concordia neighborhood.
La Bonita’s facade has been redesigned since my last visit.
At $2 a clip, the tacos here are twice the price of other taqueries, including the 2 other shops just walking distance from La Bonita on Alberta.
But as you can see with the gentle overflowing of delicious pork goodness from this pastor taco, it is easily worth it. The last few tacos I’ve had here are some of the best I’ve had since I’ve been in Portland. La Bonita has hit their stride.
The wall mural at La Bonita.
La Bonita
2839 Ne Alberta St
Portland, OR 97211
(503) 281-3662
In the five years+ I’ve been in Portland, the bánh mì options have flourished like mushrooms on a rainy fall lawn (as I typed this, I had a spore in my backyard the size of a small frisbee).
New-ish options run from the very good (Vina Deli on 82nd - UPDATE - THIS PLACED JUST CLOSED :{), to the erstwhile (Cali Sandwiches on NE Glisan and the deli in the Fubonn Asian Superstore).
The best Viet sandwich in Portland IMHO can be found at both locations of Binh Minh…
one on NE Broadway (60ish, just north of I-84)…
and the other on SE Powell (just west of 82nd).
There’s a consensus that the proprietor lady at Binh Minh is notoriously cranky, and I can see how that consensus has been reached. But growing up amongst a cadre of Vietnamese cranks who insist on nagging your every move and decision and whose idea of escalating communicative skills consists of yelling louder in an increasingly annoying pitch, I’m somewhat impervious. She works at the NE Broadway location, but on a recent visit to the SE Powell location (which just opened this year), she was there.
She took my order, and I asked for double meat, and she got my order wrong, and gave me this “dac biet” (aka the “everything” in Vietnamese) instead of the lemongrass pork. However, I’m somewhat scared of her, so I ate it.
For the uninitiated, a dac biet generall means “everything including the kitchen sink”. Head cheese, Vietnamese bologna, a spread of pâté AND butter.
Here’s the bbq pork, from the NE Broadway location.
The short story is that the bánh mì here is very good. The younger lady behind the counter asked if I wanted sliced jalapenos, and of course I did - I think a bánh mì without chilies is like a hot dog without mustard. She toasted the bread with very thin slices of delicious bbq pork - the pork was lean enough (unlike, say, Fubonn, where it is half fat). The carrots were julienned nice and thin, and the entire sandwich was the “flavor bomb” that Mr. Pok Pok once eloquently described on a PortlandFood.org thread. The bread was nice and crusty and french - this is the best bánh mì I’ve had in Portland.
I also like how they include an option for more meat for 50 cents — my main quibble is that there’s never enough meat in a bánh mì. But you can always make your own overstuffed bánh mì if you so desire, but if you are looking for anymore than a snack, I would say order two sandwiches (@$2-3 apiece you can afford it).
Menu board at Binh Minh, NE Broadway location.
Menu board at Binh Minh, SE Powell location.
Both locations have a variety of ready-to-carry Vietnamese specialties, as this shot of the NE Broadway counter attests.
In addition, the NE Broadway location has heated items, including dimunitive cha gios and savory and delectable pâté chaud.
Binh Minh Bakery & Deli
6812 NE Broadway St, Portland
(503) 257-3868
Binh Minh Sandwiches
7821 SE Powell Blvd, Portland
(503) 777-2245
Links
There was a time, when I first moved to Portland, that I hit Phở Hung every weekend morning. I lived in SE, and was hungover a lot. The host at the SE Powell location at the time was this Viet-Elvis looking dude, constantly jovial and pretty damn suave is all his post-FOB glory. I’m not sure if he’s still there.
Phở Hung-Powell was good, for the most part. The broth, if a tad greasy on ocassion, was nice and beefy, with a mellow — yet pronounced — spice profile. However, at times, the raw beef Tai was past its prime. The garnish platter was often only sparsely adorned with basil, the lime was just a nub, and the sawleaf herb was nowhere to be seen. But my wife loved (and still does, presumably — she works on SE Powell) their goi cuon chay (I would enjoy the meat-ful versions on occastion. But their nuoc cmam was insipid, though, just water and nuoc man cut with water, sugar, and a few slivered carrots).
When I discovered Phở Oregon, Phở Hung started to lose my visits. The NE Sandy/72nd location (now closed) was closer to my NE home at the time, and was not the same quality as the location on SE Powell. And every 3 months, when I got my wife’s Saturn serviced in Beaverton, I’d always hit the Phở Hung in Beaverton. I had three consecutive Phở meals here that bordered on laughable. The broth was swimming in grease. Large, tepid, brown discs of beef round were weathered by freezer burnt edges, and imparted a mouthfeel like shoe leather. And I’ve also visited the SE 82nd location, and the broth tasted like it could have come out of a can.
Phở Hung as a concept had become too inconsistent to earn my continued patronage.
So it was with slight suprise when I recently have a very good bowl of phở (and goi cuon) at Phở Hung. I found myself in Beaverton one morning, as my wife still drives a Saturn, and hiked down SW Canyon1 for a quick breakfast.
Goi cuon. A tight roll, fresh, and the meat was not-off tasting. A decent roll, but somewhat small.
But as the upskirt shot shows, it does not have much in the way of greens/herbs, outside of lettuce. This makes baby Uncle Ho cry.
Their nuoc cham is pedestrian. It needs generous doses of garlic chili sauce (conveniently in the condiment tray) to bring it up to snuff.
The garnish platter isn’t the most generous, but this was fresh. 3 slivers of jalapeno doesn’t cut it, as these are tame northwestern peppers. No saw leaf herb, aka culantro aka “ngo gai” (Vietnamese), though you can ask if they have it in-house. Pretend like you’re yelling, “yo guy!” except put an “N” in front (”n-yo guy!”). And you have to yell. It’s the preferred method of communicating with non-English speaking peoples, including the elderly2.
The soup, in this case phở tai chin, or soup with raw round and braised brisket. As you can see, the tai was truly rare, with only a brief scorch of hot broth used to cook the meat (just as it should be).
The brisket “chin”. The phở today was very good. I was pleasantly surprised. The broth was on the mark. The meats were tender, the chin here rivaled the last Phở Oregon visit (Sandy location) and was better than the last bowl I had at the Phở Oregon-82nd location.
When the Saturn needs to be serviced in 3 months (or 3,000 miles - whatever comes first), I’ll be back for another bowl.
Phở Hung
13227 SW Canyon Rd # B
Beaverton, OR 97005
(503) 626-2888
Footnotes
1 People on this road seem to regard pedestrians as meritless, contemptible beings that contribute little to society.
2 Apparently this works both directions. I don’t speak Vietnamese, and my mother has determined the only why she can communicate with me in English is by TALKING VERY LOUD. But I’ve heard her talk (in Vietnamese) on the phone — with her friends — and she tends to elucidate similarly by TALKING VERY LOUD AT ONE CONSTANT, SUSTAINED, NEAR-YELL. I’m not sure if her friends on the other end of the line are constantly startled by my mother’s pitch, or if this is just a commonly accepted phenomenom in her culture. So maybe it really is a) the Vietnamese people, or b) just my mom’s family. I suspect b), as I met my mom’s friends and they tend to be soft-spoken, but when I call my Aunt’s house and ask a question she responds in a such cacophony that you’d think you’re listening to an elephant choke on an entire pineapple.
Via Alison @Blogtown, I was reminded of the recent opening of Mark Lindsay’s Rock & Roll Cafe, where, in addition to undoubtedly being exposed to an inordinate amount of flair, you’ll be be able to chow on creative menu items such as “Yellow Submarines” and “Freebird”.
It is a little known fact, but I do a bit of menu consultation in my free time. Here’s some of the items that did not make the cut, for some reason:
Smells Like Teen Spirit
“Chef’s Special” – A melange of pubic armpit hairs piled on top of a filet of ennui.
Bridge Over Troubled Water
Three breadsticks served over a bowl of bouillon cubes reconsititued from toilet water.
We Didn’t Start the Fire
"Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide" - Our take on the RAW FOOD TSUNAMI THAT’S TAKING AMERICA BY STORM!!!
Baby Got Back (Ribs)
We gots da grills for your grillz!
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Peking-style duck (requires 24-hour notice).
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
(Same as above, but requires 48-hour notice).
I Wanna Be Sedated
Chicken nuggets laced with Ritalin® (Kid’s Menu Item).
Should I Stay or Should I Go
A sloppy joe studded with Colace and served with a Kaopectate aioli (on the side).
I had happy hour at Ten 01 recently. The place is the namesake of its address, which is 1001 NW Couch (For those new to Portland, “Couch” is not pronounced as you think. In fact, it took about 3 years before I was comfortable enunciating it correctly).
Ten 01 apparently got off to a rough start, but supposedly have righted the ship by hiring a capable chef from Southern California who has come in and established some consistency. At least that’s conventional wisdom. I definitely liked what I saw when I stopped by for a great happy hour meal here. The bar area is a real knockout. It’s a nice space.
Some drink with a kumquat. Forgot the other details (vodka?), but as you can see, it had a very sweet and delicious kumquat. Refreshing. Great cocktail.
Romaine with lemon-garlic dressing and toasted grana padano.
Bason-shallot tater tots. These were croquettes of bacon-n-alium-infused mash potatoes, breaded and fried. That sounds tasty. It was.
Burger sliders with Tillamook white cheddar. I loved them. The sauce was, I would say, a grain mustard aioli? The burgers were cooked expertly, slightly pink in the center. Scrumptious.
Sliders upskirt.
Fried green tomatoes. Unexpectedly (too) tart.
Oysters with that mignonette thingy (apple and pink peppercorn, in this case). Fresh, briny, delicious.
Pulled pork sliders. Meh. We ordered these last, so maybe I was just too stuffed. But it wasn’t really pulled as much as I thought it would be, and the seasoning was quite tame.
Ten 01
1001 NW Couch Street
Portland, OR 97209
Further Reading
Taqueria Don Pancho
2000 NE Alberta St
Portland, OR 97211
(503) 459-4247
In northeast Portland, there is a good taqueria called Taqueria Don Pancho.
As the name suggests, they have tacos. No carnitas, so a fish taco pinch hit to complete the taco triumvarite.
The menu.
Split shot of the garnish bar.
Carne asada.
Pastor.
Fish.
The red and green sauces.
I love Don Pancho. The tacos, at $1.25 a clip, are tasty little buggers. No carnitas, but the fish is a bargain at that price. They are not baja style fish tacos, these are fried (but not battered) — and then grilled — pieces of tilapia flesh. Sometimes they use pieces extracted from a whole fried tilapia (which is also on the menu) that are then re-crisped on a hot grill, but last time it was actually distinct fried pieces. The tacos are consistently crisp and tasty. The pastor are tasty little nuggets of crisp pork, and the asada is at the very worst very serviceable.
In terms of the Alberta Street taco, Don Pancho is the clear favorite. Anybody who claims La Sirenita is even worth your time hates Mexican food and the Mexican people.
I highly enjoy the table sauces the fine folks at Don Pancho serve up at the garnish bar. They are both high quality, well-made sauces that, incidentally…
Are available next door at el Mercado.
The have a small but excellent butcher counter, with several pre-prepped, pre-marinaded items, and all the excellent cuts and slices favored by Mexican cooks.
Even if you don’t intend to buy anything after your tacos, it’s worth visiting el Mercado just to remind yourself that the most popular brand of baked goods in Mexico is called “Bimbo”.
“We all know that by staying here it’ll be a good high this year
So what’s the use to staying there if you’ve got no use for time
The fitness coast is growing near
The shores they don’t stay blond all year
The continent moves with growing fears
Its all for expensive lawn”
— “Date with Ikea”, Pavement, off the 1997 album Brighten the Corners
The Ikea in Portland had been open for a little under two weeks when I dropped by on a Sunday evening. My wife was on an extended stay in the oncology wing at the Sunnyside Kaiser Permanente, and since we are moving to a new house soon and there was no internet access at the hospital, I figured I’d shoot up I-205 and score a printed catalog so she could fete her compulsive shopping behaviors from the safe confines of her hospital bed.
My first mistake was to go to Ikea.
I had somewhat fond memories of my last visit, when we braved the drive up I-5 to Renton a few years ago to hit the Seattle-area Ikea. We picked up a load of furniture in flat boxes, some things which over the years have been relegated to erstwhile and forgotten nooks and crannies throughout our house (and yard and garage), or items which have simply been thrown away. I do enjoy the kitchen items, though (best colander ever).
But I had visions of my hyper-efficient meatball plate I had procured in the sterile Ikea cafeteria. 15 perfectly round balls of meat, 126 grams of boiled red bliss potatoes, topped with 60mL of strangely creamy brown gravy, and accompanied on the side by 22mL grams of ligonberry sauce. An assembly that existed as a shining paragon of the Ikea philosophy: fleeting, throwaway uber-productivity that permeates every umlaut-bestowed line of build-it-yourself furniture. A cheap, quick crack cocaine hit, the equivalent of a power pop one-hit wonder, here today, gone tomorrow…the Harvey-Danger’s-Flagpole-Sitta of culinary experiences.
The route to the Portland Ikea is trepidatious. One wrong turn off the Airport Way access road and you’ll find yourself on the way to the Dalles or some random Comfort Inn or the Airport long-term parking lot. After nearly taking all of these wrong turns — and flipping several, extremely illegal U-turns — I made my way to Cascade Station, only to find the Ikea overrun with lecherous cretins collectively paying homage to the great cobalt Jesus.
The parking lot was full, and those late to the party (and this was nearly 7pm) were being diverted to one of many makeshift dirt parking lots that rimmed the periphery of the Ikea expanse. Flaggers wearing bright orange vests expedited the flow of traffic into these cattle yards. It had the feel of the county fairgrounds parking lot before a Monsters of Rock (or Ozzfest) mega-concert.
After walking nearly a half mile, I now found myself amongst the flocks of ebullient minions. These were pilgrims on a hajj to fulfill some perverse post-consumerism wet dream.
I was saluted by these colorful, flowing Ikea flags. This lent an air of diplomatic fanfare to the occasion, much like as if I was visiting the United Nations.
As you enter, you are presented with a couple options. Take the escalator to start the “tour”, or deposit your kid at the brat bank, where you’ll be given a pager in exchange for your first born. You’ll be able to wander aimlessly throughout the Ikea showroom knowing your child is accounted for. The pager is a nice touch — if little Johnny accidentally impales himself with the disassembled leg of a MAMMUT children’s polypropylene table, you’ll be the first to know.
On the top floor awaits the Ikea cafeteria. Presumably it’s situated at the mouth of the showroom so as to suggest that you’ll need the sustenance in order to brave the long, winding, Canterbury-ish journey on which you’re about to embark.
As you can see, the cafeteria was overflowing with hordes of angry consumo-bots eager to get their lingonberry on. It was seriously longer than the Space Mountain lines I used to encounter at Disneyland as a child. My meatball fetish would have to wait, as there was no way on earth I was going to return to my wife at the hospital 2 hours later just because I needed a round meat fix. Maybe, if she was still on her morphine drip, but ever since she stopped riding the snake her concept of place and time had regretfully returned.
I did manage to snap a couple shots of a section of the menu, and a placard on a table bragging about a 99 cent breakfast. Amazing.
I asked about the catalogs. They won’t get their shipment of catalogs for a few weeks. This amounted to a wasted trip.
The saving grace in this case is that Ikea also features a small snack shop at the exit (with much shorter lines).
I picked up a $0.99 chocolate bar, mostly for the packaging (and the awesome way the Swedish spell “milk chocolate”)…
a $.50 hot dog…
and 2 cups of meatballs for $1 each. A dollar!
Here’s a closeup of the snack bar menu.
Each one dollar cup of meatballs contained 5 meatballs in brown gravy, with a single toothpick speared into the very top ball o’ meat.
These were not good. The meatballs were incredibly overcooked, and the bottoms were flattened and nearly burnt from the sheetpan on which they undoubtedly sat too long. This gave the lower half of each meatball the mouth feel of particle board. The long past-prime gravy had a consistency not unlike custard. A custard that had been made from coffee brewed from mop water infused with a nondescript spice profile (cardamom?). Despite my firm and unwavering adherence to my usual “No Meatball Left Behind” policy, I didn’t finish them all.
As I made the ignoble walk of shame back to my car in the dirt overflow lot, I couldn’t help but notice how the Cascade station MAX tracks intersected the pedestrian walkway with an aura of nonchalance that belied the fact that tons of metal — capable of killing large mammals at low speeds — regularly shuttled past this very spot with punctual regularity. I fear for the poor shlub, freshly sated with a recent over-indulgent orgy of consumerism, and logy from a few dozen meatballs and a cinnamon bun, who might get flattened thin as the box for that BESTÅ modular entertainment unit he was carrying back to his car.
UPATE 7/20/07: You can try the tacos here, it’s a free country, but I can’t honestly recommend this place. We had a meal there this week (ordering off the menu) that was so abysmally bad that I have erased the memory of the existence of Las Nayaritas from mind. Too bad I’m reminded every time I look at my blog.
You’ve been warned.
Las Nayaritas is on the north end of North Lombard street. The glass storefront advertises some of the types of food you’ll be able to purchase and eat inside. I find this particular method of communication effective.
The inside wall has pictures. I like pictures. They are generally helpful.
You know what I really like? Those plastic replicas of the actual dishes themselves. However, the Japanese seem to be the only ones saavy enough to practice this art of pretense. So sad.
Las Nayaritas isn’t your conventional taqueria, in that you actually sit down and a menu is brought to you and waitrons — in this case a very friendly lady who most likely owns the place, and her chaming, shy daugheter — serve you like it was a real restaurant and everything.
They even bring chips and salsa. Gratis. The chips were fresh, warm, and toasty.
The table salsa was a very standard tomato based sauce. Somewhat erstwhile, but nothing bad by any means. Just somewhat perfunctory, but hey it’s free so shut the fuck up.
Tacos at Las Nayaritas run $1.50 apiece. There is a special, however, for four that will run you $5.00. If you do the math, that is $1.25 a taco. $1.25 is less than $1.50.
The taco triumvarite. Pastor, asada, and carnitas. Asada won today’s battle, as I tacked on an extra carne-A to complete the four taco special. Notice the single wrap; the tortillas at Las Nayaritas are a bit thicker/larger than your other taquerias.
The pastor I would describe more like adobado. It was probably basted with the sauce (or one similar to) that canned chipoltes are packed in. Not your usual, associative pastor flavors.
The asada was decent. Crisp, if somewhat gamey. I think the seasoning could be a bit more agressive.
The carnitas were the best of the batch. They look somewhat dry and stringey here, but they were actually quite good.
There’s a condiment bar, however, it would seem as though it’s not intended as a setup for diners to which to help themselves. Rather, it appears it’s the condiment station/mise en place for the waitrons to garnish your plates before delivery (I was brought a small ramekin of both red and green salsas, and some pickles).
By nature, I sit as close as I possibly can to anything that might even remotely look like a serve-yourself garnish setup. So everything was right there for me to help myself, but I did not want to break “the fourth wall”, as it were.
Wanting to help myself to the salsas, yet the apprehension I felt in doing so, led to a feeling of uneasiness, of an unrequited garnish fetish gone unfulfilled, that haunted me the entire meal. Though, granted, I ate all four tacos in less than 3 minutes.
The green salsa was particularly striking — verdant, bright, fresh.
The red was piquant, with a touch of smokiness.
Carrots and jalapenos en escabeche were a nice touch.
Los Nayaritas earns serious bonus point for free chips and salsa. I would pass on the pastor, and double up on carnitas and asada. They have quite a wide menu, even a couple seafood cocteles, so there’s much to be explored.
Las Nayaritas
2727 N Lombard St
Portland, OR 97217
(503) 286-3119
I went to Higgins with a buddy last week (disclaimer: I also posted this @Portlandfood.org). I had the burger and was duly unimpressed.
It was definitely large and looked promising. But the texture was off. The menu doesn’t use the word “burger”, preferring to dress it up with euphemisms (”freshly ground sirloin on hearth-baked roll”). The ground sirloin just doesn’t cut it IMO. Too lean, for one, and the thick patty sunk like a lead balloon on that roll. 1/2 the way through it was tough to finish, like I was eating a solid meat donut (incidentally I gave up on the last couple bites as I could sense a large lump of meatitude in my abdomen - I can’t remember the last time I didn’t finish a non-fast food burger).
There was very little discernable flavor outside of thick, brutal meatness. At $11, I have had a better $5 Sysco burger at Yur’s — and it included Sysco fries. This burger was served with a perfunctory mayo/aioli, no tomato, just a meager portion of house made pickles that were basically limp wisps of sliced cucumber and a single cornichon. It came with a lightly dressed mesclun mix that was sprinkled with hazelnuts.
Also had the open-faced pastrami sandwich. I’m no pastrami expert, but I can say this fared better than the burger - served with grilled onions and melted white cheddar. Same salad on the plate.
I didn’t pay for the meal - we were on our way to see The Apples in Stereo @Berbati’s, so my buddy picked up the tab (since I had paid for show tickets). However, had I paid, I may have said something about this:
Especially considering I couldn’t even get as much ketchup from the glass container as I wanted for my burger (it was running on low-to-empty). I had considered asking our waitron for more ketchup, but simply didn’t bother - I wonder if we would have been double-charged.
Again, mediocre burger. No fucking fries. Charging for ketchup and mustard? Criminal.
Most restaurants don’t make their own desserts. They farm that work out to local bakeries or mega-dessert conglomerates like Bindi. I’m not saying these outsourced desserts aren’t good – they’re just not homemade.
Agreed. I’d rather sport for another appetizer to round out the meal. Why waste 700 calories on something sweet and cloying? Bah.
I just fucking went to